The Last Lies of Ardor Benn

by Tyler Whitesides

  “Not if you were in the Memory cloud, too,” he tried, head bowed, eyes squinted shut as if trying to make sense of it.

  “And Memory Grit wouldn’t help him predict the outcome of an Ashing toss,” said Quarrah. “Or the shots you fired.”

  “Maybe there was Illusion Grit in the mix,” said Ard. “Maybe the coin in my hand wasn’t what I was actually seeing.”

  “You know that’s not how Illusion Grit works,” Quarrah said. It was unlike Ard to ramble so inanely. She imagined it was always like that in his head, but he was usually more careful about screening the words that came out.

  “Did either of you detonate liquid Grit in here?” Raek asked, crossing the room and taking a knee.

  “No,” Quarrah and Ard replied. She had needed nothing but a pot of Drift Grit to get over the soakhouse’s outer fence and her lock-picking tools to get into the Be’Igoth.

  “Then how do you explain this?” Raek pinched something tiny off the floor and held it up for their inspection. In the dwindling glow of the Prolonged Light Grit, Quarrah had no hope of seeing what he held. And she certainly wasn’t going to don her wire spectacles in front of Ard.

  “Slagstone chip,” Raek answered his own question. He stood, brushing his boot across the floor with a grating sound. “Shards of glass and a little cork. All the evidence of a liquid Grit detonation.”

  Ard was nodding. “That’s exactly where Hedge was standing when he predicted the Ashing toss and the shots.” He took an anxious step forward. “What kind of Grit was it?”

  “There’s no way to tell,” Raek said, peering down at the detonation site beside his boot.

  “What color is the liquid?” Ard pressed, taking a knee to make his own inspection.

  “The floor’s damp, but probably just from the steam in here,” said Raek. “Jonzan’s Second Truth still applies to the liquid stuff—all ignited Grit is consumed upon detonation. No trace left behind.”

  “But what type would have been useful?” Ard asked.

  In her mind, Quarrah ran through the list of new Grit types that Portsend Wal had discovered before his death. Ignition, Null, Containment, Stasis, Weight, Gather, and of course, Metamorphosis.

  “Ignition makes the most sense,” she answered. “It’s becoming standard across the Greater Chain, and he could have used it to trigger other Grit types like Ard mentioned.”

  “Or…” Ard whispered. “Or this is something different.”

  “New new Grit?” Raek’s voice was skeptical. “You’re giving a lot of credit to a guy whose mother named him after a trimmed bush.”

  “Portsend developed seven types based on information that Prime Isless Gloristar had given him from the Anchored Tome,” Ard said. “But Gloristar told me herself that she’d lost the book. And she hadn’t been able to read the entire thing before Termain took it.”

  “You’re saying that there might have been other source materials that Portsend never knew about?” Raek said.

  Ard shrugged. “I wouldn’t have considered it before our time with the professor, but it seems possible. Likely, even.”

  Quarrah gave it some thought. “And you think that Hedge Marsool discovered the formula to a new type of liquid Grit that does… what? Shows him the future?”

  “It’s not a stretch to imagine it,” said Ard. “Illusion Grit replays an image across time. Visitant Grit has the power to physically transport someone through time. What if Hedge has the next step?”

  “Time Grit,” Raek said.

  “Future Grit,” suggested Ard.

  Raek shook his head. “I like Time Grit better.”

  “We don’t know if it really shows him the future, or moves him through time,” reminded Quarrah. “Sparks, we don’t even know if some new type of Grit really exists.”

  “True,” said Ard, standing. “But it’s certainly given me good incentive to do Hedge’s job.”

  “Out of fear that he’ll use an unknown Grit on you?” she asked.

  Ard shook his head. “Out of curiosity in finding it for myself.”

  Quarrah drew in a misty breath. Ardor Benn was notorious for digging too deep into his employers. But this time, she was actually onboard with him. They needed to prevent Hedge from turning his thugs into Glassminds, as he’d called them. And if there was a new Grit as powerful as Hedge was claiming, Quarrah needed to know more about it.

  “All right,” Quarrah said. “So we need to steal a dragon.”

  “And where do you plan to store a beast that size?” Raek asked.

  “Hedge gave us a lead on that,” answered Ard. “Someone named Lavfa, a Talumonian baroness. You ever heard of her?”

  “Doesn’t sound familiar,” replied Raek. “I’ll look into her and see what I can dig up.”

  “Once we find her, we’ll need to win her trust before we can even ask about space to store a dragon,” Ard said.

  “Why?” Quarrah asked. “If we pay her enough, isn’t it a fair deal?”

  “Except our side of the deal is highly illegal,” Ard reminded her.

  “So I’ve met plenty of barons and nobles who were more than a little crooked,” said Quarrah. “We can hope this Lavfa is one of them. I’ll scout her properties and make certain she’s not a straight arrow. Then Raek can set up a meet.”

  Ard held up his hands in a gesture that obviously dismissed what Quarrah had just said. Why was this man incapable of listening to anyone but himself? Even Raek’s ideas had to pass through Ard’s filter before they were acceptable.

  “You’re probably right,” Ard said to her surprise. “I’m guessing the baroness is crooked. Which is even more reason to gain her trust. If she finds out who I am, then Lavfa might stand to gain more by turning me in. One little crime is all it’ll take to get the queen’s pardon revoked. Trable would have to throw me out of the Islehood and I’d lose everything I’ve been working for.”

  What was he working for? Quarrah thought he would probably answer her truthfully if she asked, but that would only show him that she was interested. If they continued working together, Ard’s motives would certainly become apparent. And Quarrah had no trouble waiting.

  “We have to approach this carefully so we don’t spook her,” Ard continued. “When we tell her that we have a very large, very dangerous, illegal item to store on her property, I want her to rub her hands together with excitement, not summon the local authorities.”

  Ard always did things the hard way. “And how do you plan to gain Lavfa’s trust?” Quarrah asked.

  “We need to get her away from the Regulation so she really has time to ponder our proposal before she reports us,” Ard mused.

  “Want me to abduct her?” Raek asked bluntly.

  “That’ll gain her trust,” muttered Quarrah.

  “Let’s try something less aggressive,” said Ard. “I’m talking about a little ruse.”

  Quarrah let out a slow breath. When was he not?

  It’s impossible to know what comes next. I’ve survived this long by wearing out the toes of my boots.

  CHAPTER

  5

  Holy Isle Ardor Benn sauntered out of the boathouse, the sea wind whipping his green robes as he studied the crowd on the broad deck of the catamaran. This vessel was like a genuine house floating on two long wooden pontoons. In addition to the covered deck, the house itself had three separate sleeping quarters, and a spacious social room with a kitchen at the back.

  As large as the boathouse was, Ard found that there was nowhere he could go to escape Baroness Lavfa’s voice. It was no wonder she’d never been invited to one of Lord Capsu’s sightseeing excursions. Ard wished he could have captured the host’s face in Illusion Grit when he realized that Lavfa had somehow received an invitation for today. Still, Capsu let her onboard without so much as a protest, proving to Ard that there was one universal trait shared by all noblemen—they hated admitting mistakes.

  Far from an actual mistake, the forged invitation delivered to Baroness Lavfa had been ca
refully crafted. The plump woman had arrived in a fancy embroidered dress, haggling with the other guests before they’d left Grisn’s southern harbor.

  Even on the deck, with the fresh wind in his face and the pop of the big sail overhead, Ard could hear Baroness Lavfa inside the boathouse, trying to buy the earrings directly out of a noblewoman’s lobes. She was an absolute shark of a businesswoman, but so far they’d not been able to find any evidence that she was crooked.

  Lord Capsu silenced the quartet of musicians on the deck, earning everyone’s attention as the string music paused. The man raised a stemmed glass in one hand as he addressed his wealthy guests.

  “If you direct your attention off the starboard prow, you’ll get your first glimpse of New Vantage.” Capsu spoke of it with such pride, Ard would have thought he was the founder. His comment was met with great enthusiasm, the nobles swarming to the side of the deck, spyglasses in hand to ogle Pekal’s first residential city.

  Ard had already seen it from the Double Take a few months ago. He thought it was a fine accessory to the forested slopes of an otherwise virgin island.

  To Ard, New Vantage represented everything that he loved to exploit about the upper class in the Greater Chain. It was a resort town—silver, gold, and glass sparkling above the eastern harbor. They weren’t living on Pekal because they should. They were there to show that they could. It was an impractical site, populated by impractical people. Ripe for the rusing. If he weren’t trying to stay out of trouble, Ard would have already run a dozen jobs on those haughty residents.

  “I see the Mooring Station,” exclaimed one of the women, her eye pressed to a spyglass. “There. You can see the waterfall pouring down the cliff to the sea.”

  Yes. Prime Isle Trable had been quick to establish a small remote Mooring. It had only one Cove and was easily staffed by a single Isle. The waterway had been constructed around an existing stream that flowed through the little Mooring, providing a place where the Holy Torch could be lit during the Passings to ward off Moonsickness.

  Baroness Lavfa came bustling onto the deck, her pudgy cheeks rosy as she moved toward the group on the starboard side. “I’ve had my eye on several undeveloped acres on the east side of New Vantage,” she said, her voice outperforming the wind. “It’s a lease against the crown, you know. The crusader queen declared all of Pekal property of the throne.”

  Ard understood why Queen Abeth might allow some developments on the island. After all, her son had been held there for nearly two years, briefly shuffled off Pekal during every Moon Passing. A more permanent development would lead to regular residents. That would mean more eyes on the slopes to spot the kind of suspicious activity that had led to her son’s detainment. In truth, Ard thought New Vantage was probably having the opposite effect, creating a more comfortable staging area for poachers and smugglers.

  “Isle Ardor?” a servant asked. “Would you like something to drink?”

  Ard turned to find Raek towering beside him. The servant’s apron looked ridiculously small across his broad chest.

  “I think I’ve had quite enough,” Ard replied. “But I would enjoy another one of those sweet rolls if there are any left.”

  “Of course,” Raek said, his voice unusually polite. “I will see to it myself.”

  Okay. That was the cue. Everything was in place. It was time to earn Baroness Lavfa’s trust.

  Ard moved to the starboard side of the deck, his steps natural and slow, like those of a person edging into a conversation that had started without him. He had already spoken individually with several of the guests, learning that his reputation preceded him, as it was wont to do.

  “Of course, Her Majesty gifted the land to the Islehood for building the Mooring Station,” Ard cut in at the back of the group, his gaze passing over their shoulders to the distant settlement. “As a crusader monarch, she works closely with Prime Isle Trable in all matters.”

  “Ah, the infamous Isle,” said a woman Ard hadn’t yet spoken with.

  “I don’t know about infamous,” Ard replied with a coy smile, stopping beside Baroness Lavfa.

  “What did Lord Capsu have to do to get you onboard?” asked a young man with vibrant red hair.

  “Quite the contrary,” said Ard. “I asked to come. It’s a wonderful chance for me to speak with people of your standing.”

  Second-rate Talumonian lords and nobles, Ard thought honestly. Ones who couldn’t actually afford to visit New Vantage but still wanted to feel like they were a part of it.

  “And for us to speak with you,” said Lord Capsu. “Your journey shines hope on anyone who has felt too Settled to go on.”

  “As does yours, good sir,” said Ard, earning a few raised glasses for the comment.

  It was common knowledge that Capsu had been a Hegger in his youth. The Compounded Health Grit had almost killed him one night, and his parents had locked him away for a year until his body no longer craved it. The man that had emerged was finally suited to inherit his parents’ estate. He married well, had two children, and became a loud voice for better regulation of Health Grit in Talumon.

  “You’re both examples to us all,” said Lady Capsu, squeezing her husband’s arm affectionately.

  “That’s kind of you,” Ard said humbly. “When Her Majesty extended a pardon, the Homeland spoke to me. I’ve never doubted my decision to join the Islehood.”

  “Have you ever been to Pekal?” Lord Greyfeather asked.

  “Once or twice,” Ard admitted. “My old life had a way of getting me into places I didn’t belong.”

  A few chuckles.

  “Did you ever see one?” Greyfeather followed up.

  “A dragon?” Ard clarified. “I glimpsed one in the wild once. The beast was standing so still, I thought at first that it was nothing more than a mossy cliffside. It was sleeping, thank the Homeland, but my companions were making such a racket, I thought for sure they’d awaken her.”

  “What did you do?” asked Lady Capsu.

  “Well, my friend was walking past at that very moment and I grabbed his arm.” As if to emphasize the story, Ard reached out and gripped Baroness Lavfa by the elbow. “I was too startled to speak, so I just pointed.” He tugged his hand sharply away, pointing for dramatic effect. As he did so, he made sure to snag the silk strap of her petite handbag. It slipped from her ample arm, striking the deck and spilling its contents.

  There was a moment of silence as everyone realized what they were seeing, scattered at their feet. Amid the expected handbag items—a small mirror and comb, a pouch of Ashings—were half a dozen rolled paper cartridges.

  “Is that…?” someone muttered.

  Lord Capsu abruptly handed his drink to his wife and stooped to snatch up a roll. Untwisting one of the ends, he poured a bit of gray powder into his palm, studying it under an intense eye.

  “This is Health Grit,” he said softly, his gaze falling on the baroness at Ard’s side. “What are you doing with this?”

  “I…” she stammered. “It isn’t mine. I don’t know…”

  “This handbag is not yours?” Capsu’s voice was already turning accusatory.

  “The bag is—”

  “Illegal possession of Compounded Health Grit is a crime,” cried Capsu. “And you bring that filth aboard my vessel?”

  “It was him!” came a loud cry from the deck behind. The whole crowd turned to find two servants standing beside the string quartet. Raek was awkwardly holding a basket of sweet rolls, looking as if he’d just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. And Quarrah was beside him, dressed in a servant apron that actually fit her.

  Ard would have waited a little longer before delivering the line, really letting Lavfa stew in confusion under Capsu’s accusations. But he was pleased with the sincerity in Quarrah’s voice as she stood pointing at Raek.

  “I saw him drop the Health Grit into the lady’s handbag,” Quarrah continued when all eyes were on her. Ard could tell how much she hated this kind of acting and
attention, but her part was nearly done.

  Lord Capsu strode across the deck, hands balled into fists at his side. “You,” he barked in Raek’s face. “What’s your name?”

  “Wolden, sir.” For a man his size, Ard thought Raek was doing a remarkable job of looking weak and frightened in the face of authority.

  “Did you do this?” Capsu held out one hand, the paper roll smashed from his grip.

  “No, sir.” Raek stared straight ahead over the water.

  “He has more,” Quarrah said. “Search him.” Then, having delivered her last line, she promptly excused herself, ducking out of the limelight into the boathouse. Too bad she’d miss the next bit. The fun part was yet to come.

  Lord Capsu reached into Raek’s apron pocket and withdrew another two rolls of Heg. The nobleman’s face glowered a shade of red. “What are you doing on my boat?”

  Raek remained impassive.

  “Answer me!”

  “Lord Capsu.” Ard stepped forward and placed a hand on the angry man’s shoulder. The host stepped away, violently hurling the fistful of Heg rolls over the railing of the ship.

  “We’ll detain him in one of the private rooms,” said Capsu. “Turn him over to the harbor Regulation when we arrive back in Grisn.”

  “I’d like to speak with him, if you’ll permit it,” Ard said quietly. Lord Capsu flicked his wrist in a gesture of dismissive permission.

  “Hello, Wolden,” Ard said, stepping up to face Raek. What kind of a name was Wolden? Ard had suggested several winners, but Raek was clearly going off-script.

  “I need you to tell me what you were doing with that Health Grit in your apron,” Ard said.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Raek.

  “Come on. I saw it. We all saw it.” He gestured to the group, making sure they stayed engaged in the exchange.

  “I’m not a Hegger,” Raek said stubbornly. It was a sentence that struck Ard to the core. His friend was supposed to be acting, but this conversation was steering awfully close to real life.